I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: Four one shots, pure fluffy slash, dedicated to the soldiers fighting in Iraq. Four stories each about a soldier and his love back home, and the utter devotion to fighting for those they love...SpecsDutchy, MushBlink, RaceSpot and SnitchSkittery
1. Sleigh Bells

AN: Time for three one shot Christmas fics! This is dedicated to all the brave soldiers in Iraq, fighting for our freedom, and dedicated to Christmas.

There will be three chapters in this, each one a little one shot. The first will be Specs/Dutchy, the second will be Mush/Blink, and the third will be Skitts/Snitch. Three stories, all taking place between a soldier and his boyfriend, separated by war. These are pure fluff, people.

Here we go!

Dutchy

            "Come on, Dutch. Cheer up. It's Christmas."

            I smiled weakly for my mother, but I'd completely lost my appetite. Sure, the food on my plate was the best I would get all year, but I just couldn't bring myself to eat it. After all, Specs was probably on limited rations, sitting in a tent with other soldiers right now, deprived of all this warmth and family.

            "Dutchy? Are you okay?" My father asked, setting down her fork and looking at me with concern. I once again forced a smile.

            "I've just got a headache," I said, and then I sighed deeply. "I think I'm gonna go lie down for a few minutes." 

            I pushed back from the table and stood up, and my little sister was simply beaming. I found this pretty odd, since I was walking away from Christmas dinner, but she would probably enjoy all the attention focusing on her.

            I took a few aspirin and dragged myself up to my room, sighing again as I looked at the pictures beside my bed. One of me and Specs at the fair, a candid shot of us in front of the ferris wheel with his arm around my waist. That was back before he enlisted, and we didn't have to hide our displays of affection all the time.

            Another one was of him at his graduation from basic training. In a perfectly pressed uniform, his hand at the brim of his hat in a crisp salute, and his face set like stone. He's really cute in uniform...but also off limits when he's in uniform. Which sucks.

            I collapsed down onto my bed and grabbed the teddy bear he'd gotten e last Christmas, clutching it to my chest and crying softly. This wasn't fair. He was supposed to get leave for Christmas, not still stuck in the middle of a desert where he could be blown up or shot any second. It just wasn't fair.

            _I'm doing this for you. Because I love you, and I want you to be safe._

            His words came flooding back to me and only made the tears come faster. He'd been out there for five months. Five fucking months.

            I couldn't take this.

            I must've cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew, my little sister was shaking me awake and the sky outside my window was pitch black.

            "What do you want, Steph? What time is it?" I muttered, noticing that she was practically vibrating with excitement.

            "It's midnight, and Santa's on the roof!"

            I looked up at her, then I laughed and ruffled her hair.

            "Go back to bed. It's your imagination."

            I rolled over and started to go back to sleep, but she started shaking me again, saying, "No, it's not! I heard sleigh bells!"

            "It's the wind."

            "Nuh-uh!"

            "_Go to sleep_."

            "Will you just come and look for me? I'm scared to go out on the roof…"

            "Steph…"

            "Please?"

            I shouldn't have looked up at her, because the second I did, the puppy dog eyes took over. And I knew I couldn't say no.

            "Fine. I'll look, but only if you promise to go to bed."

            She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of bed, and luckily I was still fully clothed- I hadn't changed into boxers yet. Otherwise it would've gotten really cold really fast.

            I walked to the window in her room as she sat down on her bed. Her window led out onto the flat part of our roof, and in the summer it was a perfect place for a picnic while watching the horses graze. Not right now, though; it was covered in half a foot of snow.

            "There's nothing out there, Steph," I said, looking out the window and peering through the gently falling curtain of snow.

            "But-"

            "I'm going to bed," I mumbled, turning to walk out of the room and ignoring her protests. However, just as I reached the door, I heard an odd sound.

            It was the sound of sleigh bells. And it was coming from outside the window.

            I slowly walked back to the window and looked out again, but I saw nothing. I knew it hadn't been just my imagination, so I took a deep breath and unlocked and slid the window up.  

            I slowly stepped out into the snow, shivering as the snow fell even thicker. I looked around, but it wasn't sight that alerted me to someone else's presence on the roof. It was sound. A soft voice was singing, a voice I recognized.

            "_I'll be home for Christmas…You can count on me…I'll be home for Christmas…If only in my dreams…_" 

            Then I finally saw something through the haze. A figure perched on the gentle slope of the roof off to my left, wearing desert combat fatigues and holding a set of sleigh bells.

            It was too good to be true. I had to be dreaming. "Specs?" I asked gently, my voice trembling, not from the cold air.

            "Merry Christmas, Dutchy."

            Oh holy mother of God…it really was him. He was here. On my roof. On Christmas Eve.

            He stood up and slid down the slope, and I leapt forward into his arms. He continued singing softly to me, and the snow became obsolete. It was freezing cold out here, and we were standing on the roof, for goodness sake…but it didn't matter.

            It was Christmas Eve, and he was safely home.

            _I _was home. 

AN: Yay! Part one done, two parts to go! Be looking out for some Mush/Blink fluff next!

I'm not really sure how this turned out, since 1. I wrote it at eleven at night and I'm highly stressed, 2. I'm on a cappuccino high, and 3. I didn't proofread it.

REVIEW!!! I think I may try shout outs on this fic triplet, so review so I have something to reply to!


	2. Promises

AN: Here's the second part! Get ready for some Mush/Blink fluff. Thanks to all my reviewers; here are your shout outs, and my first shout outs ever!

Shout Outs:

SpotLover421: Yeah, I only thought the whole roof thing was appropriate because it _is _Christmas Eve. It is kinda sad up until the end…poor Dutchy…

 Chicago: I love it when my fics are appreciated. Hopefully your cousin will come home soon…maybe for Christmas?

Ink: NO! Don't die! There are two more chapters!

Sage1899: Yeah, our state (Indiana) has lost quite a few. I think around 8 or 10. It makes me sad. And that's my all time favorite Christmas song too! *gasp* We're psychicly connected! 

Nakaia Aidan-Sun: They are cute together. Uber cute. And I definitely have plans for Blink and Mush, but not like you'd think.

Patriot: Yeah, I get sick of people putting our troops down when they're out there fighting and dying for us. And since I can't go fight, this is my little way of giving back.

Blink

            "What do you mean, you overbooked the flight?"

            The desk lady shrugged her shoulders, nervously tapping her extremely long fingernails on the desk. "The flight is full. You'll have to wait on the next one."

            "When _is _the next one?"

            She typed for a moment, staring at the computer screen as she chewed her gum loudly. The people behind me were getting impatient; after all, they too were trying to get home to their families before Christmas. I could feel both approving and disapproving looks in my direction, as I was the only one in line wearing desert combat fatigues.

            "Let's see…on Friday we have a flight, San Diego to New York City, with three layovers in Denver, St. Louis, and Columbus along the way."

            "Ma'am…Friday is the day after Christmas. I have to get home for Christmas," I insisted, trying to make my point without getting mad. Friday was two days away…I could get three fourths of the way to New York City in that amount of time. Not to mention I only had two weeks of leave, and every second I lost was one that I could be spending with my Mush.

            "I'm sorry. That's all we've got," she said, shrugging again. 

            I stood there for a moment, hovering between breaking down into tears or throwing a tantrum. Then, I just muttered 'thank you' and walked away. 

            I sat down in one of the uncomfortable waiting seats and put my face in my hands, trying hard to hold back tears. I had been shooting at Iraqi soldiers, blowing up military compounds, and using a machine gun to mow down convoys from a helicopter for five months now…and I couldn't do something as simple as getting home in time to spend Christmas with Mush.

            I promised him I'd be there. I _promised_ him. And now I couldn't follow through because some stupid airline decided to overbook every single fucking Christmas flight.

            I didn't even realize that I was crying until someone walked up to me and laid a hand on my shoulder, asking if I was okay. I looked up into the face of a man wearing blue jeans and a California shirt, obviously a tourist headed home from a vacation. I caught sight of his family just a few feet behind him, a little girl and a boy about ten or eleven, their mother entertaining them as their father spoke to me.

            "I'm fine. Just…flight troubles."

            His face contorted in confusion. "They're not going to get you home for Christmas, are they?"

            I swallowed hard, wiping the tears off my face. "No sir."

            "Where are you trying to go?"

            "New York City."

            He walked away, and I didn't pay any attention to the exchange. I simply fell back into self pity, longing for Mush's touch, the feeling of his soft, curly hair running through my fingers, his radiant smile…

            "Here."

            My head snapped back up, and the same man was standing in front of me, this time holding out a plane ticket. I looked up at him in shock, and he smiled.

            "Take it. This will get you home by six 'o clock tonight."

            "I couldn't. I mean, your family…"

            "My family is fine with it. We can have our Christmas dinner late, when I get back. But you can't."

            I looked at his family, expecting to see some kind of disappointment or anger in their eyes, but there was nothing of the sort. His wife was beaming, his son was watching with great interest, and his little girl was sitting on the floor, adjusting the whiskers on her tiger stuffed animal.

            The man suddenly grabbed my hand, shoving the ticket into my palm. "Take it. You've done your share of the fighting. _You need to go home_."

            "Sir," I choked back more tears, but these tears weren't from frustration. "I…I can't thank you enough. Is there _anything_ I can do to thank you?"

            He smiled brightly. "Just have a merry Christmas, Sergeant Mitchell," he said, glancing at the name embroidered on my fatigues. 

            They suddenly called for the final boarding on my flight, and I joined the man's family in line to get on the plane. 

            I took one look back at him right at the doorway, and he waved. Then I boarded the flight, wondering why the only person who was willing to do this for me was the very person who shouldn't have to at all.

            I can't recall how many times I told the taxi driver to 'step on it'. Luckily he was one of the better natured ones, and he would simply chuckle and continue as fast as he could through the congested city streets. 

            I had him pull up a block from the house, knowing that Mush would be listening for a car to pull up. I thanked the driver, tipped him way more than usual, and then I sprinted down the streets and climbed the steps as quietly as I could up to the door.

            I tried the door first, and it came open readily; no one in this neighborhood locked their doors much. It was a pretty good neighborhood. I slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind me, walking to the archway leading into the dining room.

            Mush was the only one sitting with his back to me; the rest of the family noticed my presence immediately, but with one gesture I told them to stay quiet. They played along, as usual.

            I crept up behind Mush as the family ate in silence, knowing exactly where to step to keep the floor from creaking. 

            I reached him and then put my hands over his eyes, and he jerked in surprise.

            "Guess who?" I said, holding him there and not allowing him to turn around and look or uncover his eyes. 

            "Blink?" He asked tentatively, and I finally took my hands off his eyes. He stood up and spun around, attacking me in a hug and whispering, "I thought you weren't going to make it…"

            I smiled and winked at his family, pulling him closer and praying to God that the man from the airport knew how thankful I was for him. 

            "I don't break promises."

AN: The next chapter will be quite different. It is Snitch/Skitts, and it will be based in Iraq. And I'll do shout outs again, so GO REVIEW!!!!!!     


	3. Blue Christmas

AN: Due to popular demand, I'm adding an extra chapter in here. Since the Skitts/Snitch chapter is the "big finale", this chapter is Spot/Race. 

Spot

            "Lieutenant Riker, reporting in, sir!"

            I looked up from all the paperwork spread out on the rickety table in front of me, eyeing the Lieutenant like a wolf would eye an injured rabbit. He was twenty minutes late in reporting to me, and in wartime, that was court marshal material.

            "Riker, when were you supposed to report?"

            "2000 hours, sir!"

            "And what time is it right now?"

            "2020 hours, sir!"  
  


            "You're late. Twenty minutes."

            "I'm sorry, sir. I just-"

            "_I don't want to hear your damn excuses!_"

            Riker froze like a deer in the headlights. He knew he was in deep shit with me.

            I decided to feed off his fear and see if he needed to be demoted. "And what if an Iraqi missile had been headed toward our camp and I needed you to start a counterstrike? Would you have been twenty minutes late then, Riker?" I asked, getting right up in his face.

            He shook his head fiercely. "No, sir. Of course not, sir!"

            "One minute could've killed all the men in this camp. In twenty minutes they could've obliterated the whole fucking United States Marine force if every joke for a Lieutenant like you decided to be late. Are you getting the picture?"

            "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, sir."

            "It had better not."

            A strong gust of wind lifted the edges of the tent, and for a moment I worried that it as going to blow away, but the stakes held it in the ground. I circled back around the desk, wondering if Riker was going to piss on himself now.

            He was holding firm. I was proud of the poor guy for that much.

            "Riker, I expect your complete and error-proof report on the contact with the 101st by first thing in the morning. Understood?"

            "Yes, sir."

            "Good. Get out of my sight, Lieutenant."

            "Yes, sir."

            With that said, he saluted and scurried out of the tent. If he had a tail, it would've been between his legs the whole way out. I collapsed into my hair, looking at all the charts and maps in front of me.

            None of them mattered. Not as long as I was ten thousand miles away from Racetrack.

            "Captain Conlon?"

            I looked up again, and a Private stood in the doorway of my tent, his arms too full of packages to salute. I let him off the hook this time; it was Christmas Eve, and he had dozens of packages to deliver to soldiers from their homes.

            "Yes, Private?"

            "You have a package. Do you want it now, or at the party tonight?"

            "I'll take it now." I wasn't planning on going to that drunken rave of a party anyway.

            He handed the small package to me, and I restrained my enthusiasm and set it aside until he left the tent. But as soon as he was gone it was back in my hands, and I was tearing it open as fast as I could.

            The return address said it was from Cherrywood Street, New York City. That meant it was from Race.

            I realized that it was a CD as I pulled it out, but it was plain, a gold CD with no writing on it whatsoever. I frowned in confusion, but my curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my bag and opened it, feeling around for my walkman and yanking it out.

            Race had never sent me more than a letter. Sure, there had been those few times where he'd sent me photographs, but a CD…this was totally new.

            I put it in and pulled on the headphones, and the display told me that there was only one song on the CD. I held my breath as I pressed the play button, wondering what newest song he'd recorded off the radio for me. Maybe a new 'fad song' in America or something.

            I was stunned when I heard Race's voice.

            "This song is all for you, Spot. All for you."

            With that, he began to sing, and I bit my lip to keep from crying.

_I'll have a blue christmas without you  
I'll be so blue just thinking about you  
Decorations of red on a green christmas tree  
Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me  
  
And when those blue snowflakes start falling  
That's when those blue memories start calling  
You'll be doin' all right, with your christmas of white  
But I'll have a blue, blue blue blue christmas  
  
You'll be doin' all right, with your christmas of white,  
But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas_

            As the song finished up, I had one thought; I just might go to that Christmas party after all. Otherwise I'd be crying all night long.

AN: Sorry, no shout out's this time. No time right now…maybe in the next chapter. Probably. I think. Next chapter is the big finale! Skittery/Snitch fluff!


	4. I'll Protect You

AN: Okay, time for the big finale! My favorite…Skitts/Snitch! This one won't be as fluffy…but fluff at the end, just the same.

I'm SO sorry…I was planning on doing shout outs, but my dad is an asshole and I'm technically supposed to be sleeping. No time right now for them. Ugh…life sucks.

Skittery

            "Merry Christmas, Skittery."

            I looked up at Snitch, who had taken a seat across the table from me. He was smiling brightly, even though we were sitting in a large mess tent with barely enough food to satisfy our hunger, let alone suffice as a Christmas dinner. I wasn't seeing it as a very "merry" Christmas.

            "What's wrong?" He asked, and I shrugged.

            "I'm just sick of all this."

            He snickered. "Aren't we all?" He took a bite of the tough, rubbery ham, and then chuckled again. "Just look at it this way…at least you don't have to deal with your Uncle John again this year."            

            "Better him than the Iraqis." 

            "Do you always have to be so pessimistic?"

            "Yes."

            He just smiled again, unperturbed by my attitude. It made me feel guilty that I wasn't making an effort for him.

            "I'm sorry Snitch…It's just that this whole thing is so…"

            "Crazy?"

            "Well, that'll work. I was looking for a word a bit stronger, but-"

            "_Fucking _crazy?"

            "Yeah, that's it."

            He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Well, I still love you, no matter how crazy this is."

            I was suddenly glad that the other guys in the mess hall were so drunk and loud. I smiled for the first time in a long while, and said, "I love you too."

            An explosion suddenly blew one side of the tent open, sending men flying in all directions with the force of the blast. I leaped to my feet and raised my gun in perfect synchronization with Snitch, and we slowly headed toward the hole in the canvas, my heart pounding in my throat.

            "See anything?" I asked, though I knew it was near impossible to see anything through the dust. The radio on my belt was alive nonstop with voices, either crying out for help or throwing orders around.

            "No." 

            His voice was very shaky; he hadn't seen action yet. I had been out with a convoy in Baghdad, but he had been in this base camp for months.

            They had told us this base was too out of the way for the enemy to think to attack it. Obviously, they were wrong, and the Iraqis knew they would let down their guard on a holiday such as Christmas.

            I had to step over injured men and debris to get to the blast site, but we weren't medics, so we had to stick with the unspoken plan to find the shooters. My eyes met his once as we heard shooting off to the right, and I took up the lead to the area.

            "Skitts…I'm scared," he whispered, his voice cracking in mid-sentence.

            "Just follow my lead. I'll keep you safe."

            "Promise?"

            "I promise."

            And that's when one of the enemy turned the corner and aimed his gun sights right on us.

            "_Get behind me!_" I screamed, opening fire. Snitch didn't comply with my order; instead, he too opened fire on the enemy, and two more of them turned the corner as the first went down.

            We were evenly matched- except for the weapons. They had machine guns. This was not going to turn out well, and I knew it.

            So I did the only thing that came to mind at the moment; I stepped directly in front of Snitch and opened fire again, only to feel the hot stabbing pain when two bullets slammed into me.

            As I dropped back against Snitch, everything seemed to melt together. But one thing I'll distinctly remember is Snitch lowering me to the ground while the enemy reloaded, and then he opened fire, his jaw clenched in fury.

            The next thing I knew, both of the Iraqis were dead, and Snitch was gathering me up into his arms, muttering "Oh, God…Oh, God," over and over again.

            The radio called for him to report, and he fumbled for his radio, stating his name, rank, location, and the current situation in a shaky, uneasy voice.

            "Base will send a medic for him. Your position is too dangerous presently. Report back at once," The radio squawked. 

            Snitch tensed immediately, and I tried my hardest to concentrate on what was going on. It felt as if someone had stuck two overheated fire pokers in me, and that was making it pretty difficult to listen.

            "The Marines don't leave men behind," Snitch growled into the radio, and the reply came only a moment later.

            "That is an order, Lieutenant. Report back at once."

            "_Damn your orders! I'm not leaving him like this!_" 

            "We'll have you court marshaled-"

            "If you don't send a medic now, he's going to die. And even if the Marines have lost their creed of not leaving men behind…I haven't. So until there is a medic here, I'm staying right beside him and protecting him."

            With that said, he dropped the radio to the ground and brushed my hair back from my forehead.

            "Snitch…it's not safe here…" I choked out, gasping for air and trying to stay awake.

            "Shut up. I'm staying, and help is coming."

            "But they said…"

            "I said shut up, you moron! Don't waste your breath!"

            It was another minute of intense pain before I dared to speak again. I could feel the life draining from my body, bit by bit.

            "Snitch…I love you."

            "Don't start that. You're going to make it."

            "I don't think so. Not this time. Just remember…_I love you_."

            I couldn't bear to see him cry, but didn't have to for long. It was only a few more seconds before darkness took over.

            When I opened my eyes, I was lying in the infirmary of the base, and I was so drugged up that I couldn't move my own body without great effort. I turned my head to the side, and Snitch smiled brightly, grabbing my hand.

            "Welcome back." He said, and I just groaned. "You've been unconscious for three days, dude."

            I just moaned again in reply.

            "You didn't have to do that," He said, and I smiled.

            "I promised I'd protect you."

            "Well, thanks to you, we're both getting a medal for this."

            "You're welcome."

            He laughed, and his smile made a bit of the pain go away. "I told you that you'd pull through."

            "I know."

            "I love you, Skitts."

            "I love you too."

            And as he leaned down to kiss me, all the pain in the world couldn't put me in a bad mood.

AN: Review! Please! Cause if I get caught writing right now, I'm dead meat… 


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